Remember to Breathe
by marianna
Summary: Written for the Loveathons Heat Wave challenge over at Livejournal. And set about a week after the finale leaves off. Veronica is worried about Keith, and has a little fun with Logan to take her mind off it. Could be seen as having some connection to 'I W


"And you'll be back by four?"

"I'll be back by four."

"And you'll have your cell phone on you at all times, in the case of an emergency?"

"I'm only going to the supermarket, I don't know what sort of-"

"And you'll have your cell phone on you at all times, in the case of an emergency?"

"Fine. Yes. See this?" A tiny flash of silver flits before your eyes for a second, just before it's repocketed. There's a grim look on his face, but it's got nothing on the one on yours. He's exhausted, you can tell. He's exhausted and probably scared himself, and you should probably volunteer to go to the supermarket, but you know he doesn't want you to-that he just wants for things to go back to normal and it's your fault that it can't, and you're not up for a fight. You're never up for fighting, especially not with him, especially not now. Especially not after…well, especially not after what happened.

"I just…" You're at a loss for words. There isn't one thing you could say that could sum up how scared you were. How absolutely terrified and lost and…your breathing starts to get heavy, and it takes everything you've got not to go into a full on panic attack. "I just worry about you. You know…" You can look in his eyes. You've got a case to finish taking pictures for-the file is open on your desk, but you can't seem to focus on the details. You're making Logan dinner tonight, pretending not to help him try and find a place, without trying to kill Dick Casablancas first, because he'll be moving in too, and you're not sure how well that'll work, because you can barely look at him… the memories are just too hard, and right now it's really hot, and you just want it all to _stop_. You look up, into his eyes where you've always been able to find solace, and it kills you to find them empty. He's just as tired as you are, if not more so, and you wish, just for a second, but for the millionth time this week that everything was different.

"I know," He's saying, his voice cutting into your reverie, using the soft tone generally only used for breaking the hard stuff. You're not ready for any more bombs to explode-literally, but you can't say anything. You don't have the right to take this from him. "But Veronica, I'm fine. _You're_ fine. I won't melt if I step foot outside this office, unless of course it's gotten much hotter. If it has, you've got a problem on your hands." He chuckles as he says the words, but you can tell when the smile doesn't reach his eyes. You smile back because he's trying. You smile because you have to. You smile because if you don't, you'll break, and supposedly everything is good, and you don't need to run the risk of ruining that. You can pretend perfect. It isn't as if you haven't had to do it before.

"Just…be back by four, Okay? I have to be at Logan's at half past, and I just want to make sure…" You can't finish your sentence. It isn't as if he can't fill in the blanks on his own anyway. _I just want to make sure you're safe._

"You do remember I'm the dad, right, Honey? I should be the one worrying." The words are on your lips. They could tumble forth at any second if you don't breathe and count down from 10. _I wouldn't worry if you hadn't disappeared for 3 days. I wouldn't _worry_ if you had called instead of coming back and pretending everything was fine. I wouldn't worry if I knew you were Okay._

"If you get to worry, I do too." As far as quips go, it isn't your best, but it's all you have at the moment, and he seems to buy your smile and the crooking of your finger, because he pats you absently on the hand, kissing your head as he heads towards the door. "Don't forget-"

"Be home by four. Got it." You couldn't resist. Waiting a full 90 seconds before pulling the digital keypad from the locked left drawer of your desk, you glance towards the door once more. When you're sure there's no chance he's coming back, you look down at the red dot on the screen, heading slowly down Appleton St., towards the supermarket. Perfect. You're so fixated on the progress of his car that the tinny noise of the phone shocks you.

"Hello?" You breathe, forgetting to check the Caller ID. Your hands are shaking so hard you're sure you're going to drop the phone. You're sure someone's got him, holding him at gunpoint, demanding a ransom or worse, just calling so you can hear the burst. Memories of Woody Goodman's explosion flashflood your mind, and for a moment, you can't breathe. "H-hello?" You whisper again, panic coursing throughout your entire body.

"I've got bad news for you, Honey." _Oh my god. _Oh_ my god._ There are hundreds of options surging through your mind. Thousands of directions for it to go in. Your heart practically stops when he chuckles. "It _did_ get hotter. But fear not, young Mars. I shall weather this…this _heat wave_. It is a dragon I shall slay, an evil fire breathing beast to…vanquish-" He pauses to laugh again, and you feel relief coursing through you, cool on a heavy burn. "Vanquish is the right word for that, right? Isn't that what that Buffy girl did with the vampires?" He asks absently, and you want to scream. Is he _seriously_ playing the pop culture game with you at a time like this? But before you even think of speaking, you know his answer. _A time like what?_ And he'd be right. You hate that, but there's nothing you can do. "I'll do all that, Sweetheart, and I'll _still_ manage to be home by five."

"Four." You respond automatically, even though you're sure he's goading you. You're rewarded with the sound of his laugh, and you're readying to click off your phone when his voice stops you.

"Oh and Veronica?" Your momentary reprieve evaporates. There is something wrong. He's hurt, he was just trying to soften the blow…someone has got him and they're not letting go, these are the last words he'll ever speak to you… "The next time you track my car, could you at least not use one of my devices? It's scrambling a signal I've been checking."

"Uh-" You're speechless again. Literally speechless, but once his words settle in, a sheen of anger courses through you.

"Dad, you promised you wouldn't work on any cases until-"

"Until what, Veronica?" _Until the danger passes. Until I know without a doubt that nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Until I can sleep at night._

"Until…until things go back to normal." It's a lame answer, because normal doesn't exist anymore. It exploded on the back of a bus with eight people and a side of your virginity. It hurts your head to think about, but there it is. You can't tell him any of that though, so you leave your answer as is. It's easier to process that way anyway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Honey? I'm fine." You close your eyes in anticipation. If your life were a movie, this would be the point that the father figure gets hit by a drunk driving bus, or shot by a man he'd put behind bars. Or, really, gets blown up. You wait for the explosion. When none comes, you find it the teensiest bit easier to breathe. It's a small comfort. "Don't worry. I'll see you soon." You hear the click from his end, but stay on the line until the nasally computer generated voice of the operator tells you to get off. You aren't sure how long you're there, holding onto a dead dial tone, until you hear a knock on the glass paneling of the door. Your heart stops before you even look up.

"You're late." At the sound of his voice, your insides turn to liquid. He's leaning against the doorjamb, a spot on his shirt damp, either sweat from the heat or a shower. The thought of an ice cold shower throws your senses into overdrive. The thought of sharing a shower with _him_ is enough to run them over the edge.

"I-"

"Lost track of time?" You don't even bother to look down at the silver watch dangling from your wrist. You know he's right, and your head hurts at the thought of how many precious phone minutes you just spent _not_ listening to a dial tone. The phone bill this month is going to be _huge_. "It's Okay," He continues, coming in further and settling at the edge of your desk. He leans down to press his lips against the heat of your forehead, brushing a bead of sweat away before kissing you. You shiver at the touch. "Your dad-"

"What? What about my dad?" You're aware of how worried you sound, and it's even more apparent as he cups your cheek, tipping your head up so he can look into your eyes, concern filtering through his.

"Your uh, dad said that he would have tried calling-but there was some problem with the phone here, he kept getting a busy signal or something, or he would've called to make sure you were Okay. What's wrong with the phone? It worked fine this morning when I called you." You nod, trying to covertly hang the phone that's been dangling from your fingertips for god knows how long.

"Nothing. It was, uh…off the hook." He nods, his eyes telling you he doesn't quite believe you, but his lips tell a different story as they press against yours. His hands are hot as they cup your head, but it's the good kind of heat, the same kind that's been roaring through you since the moment he walked through the door. Since before even then probably, as he's been the only thing that could get your mind off your worries these past few days. Your fingers clutch at the fabric on his chest, and you're completely lost in his kiss. You're completely lost in _him_, and the small, rational part of your brain tells you that if you give in now, you'll _always_ be lost in him, but you don't care. There is nothing that you want more than him. You tell him so.

"Logan-" You take a shuddering breath as his lips touch the sensitive spot above your collarbone. You don't know how much longer you'll last if he keeps doing that. "Logan," You repeat again, but the word is lost as he crushes his lips back against yours, drinking you in as if he's dying of thirst and you're a bottle of water. You really can't take the blame when you start to laugh, accidentally cutting his lip in the process.

"Um, _ow_." The look on his face is priceless, and you can't help the giggles that burst out. You can't remember the last time you laughed like this. Actually, to be truthful, you can't remember the last time you _laughed_. "You know if you wanted my attention, you could have just said something, Mars." He's hamming it up, making gestures with his hands, his eyebrows rising comically, and you know that he knows. Typical Logan. Always trying to make things better for you. You don't think that it's possible to love him more, but if you could, this would be the moment.

"I love you." And there it is. You can suddenly hear every noise in the office. The coffee maker is still sputtering even though you made the last pot hours and hours ago; the fan is making a creaky noise that you'll have to get someone to check out, the refrigerator is humming wildly, and he, is silent. You want to crawl into a corner and hide, but that would be especially hard to do since you're still wrapped in him completely and he doesn't seem to be letting go anytime soon. "Do you remember last summer, when you told me you loved me?" You ask, not bothering to wait for his response as you forge on, looking anywhere but in his eyes. As long as you don't look at him, you're safe. He may know one of your weaknesses, but it doesn't mean anything if you don't admit to it. "I _so_ know how you feel now." You want to apologize for not saying it back, to tell him that you did love him-because it's true, but you know he won't let you. He's forgiven you your past, and you wish it were as easy for you to do the same. You try to wiggle away from him. You were straining to meet him as it is, and your neck is starting to hurt. Plus he's wrinkling your case file, and that's important work. Much more important than-

"Veronica," You forget about the file as he mumbles your name lazily against your skin as his lips press against your forehead, possibly more feverish than before because of the heat and because of he's so close.

"Um-hmm?" You manage to mumble back, because he's rubbing the pad of his thumb in small circles against the bare skin of your back and you seem to have lost your power of speech.

"I don't need to say, 'I love you too'." You nod, because you can't seem to do anything else when he's touching you like that, but really, you want to shake your head. Of course he has to say 'I love you'. It's definitely written that if the girl says it first, the guy has to follow with a repeat with a 'too' added at the end. There's cause for disbandment if the rules aren't adhered to, but as his lips brush against the sweatiness of your shoulder you can't imagine why the lack of those three little words should be enough to keep you away from this.

"Fuck it." You mutter, barely conscious that you've said the words out loud as you drag his face toward yours, fusing your lips together. You're on your knees on your brand new Aeron chair, barely realizing that all of his weight as well as yours is balanced on the four rolling wheels. "It doesn't matter if you don't say it back." You murmur as he pulls your shirt above your head, coming face to face with your white and pink striped bra. You feel silly as you blush, knowing full well that the overwhelming heat of the afternoon has taken it's toll on your undergarments, although you're pretty sure your panties had been fine before he'd walked in.

"Have I ever told you," He mutters through gritted teeth, his breath ragged as it comes out in sharp, quick bursts and you can't help but smiling, because you made it that way. He's like this because of you, and you can't think of anything more exciting. "Have I ever told you, Mars," He pauses to breathe again, pressing a kiss below the bow on the clasp of your bra. "That that is a really _splendid_ bra?" You laugh, and you can feel the goose bumps that explode on his skin as the sound reverberates around him.

"Did you hear that?" He asked, and you shake your head because you hadn't, and because you're burning so so hot, and the stupid heat wave outside isn't helping much, even though you suspect that even in the dead of winter, you'd be dying of heat stroke right about now. His tongue delves beneath the waistband of your cut offs, and he'd worked magic on the buttons with his teeth. The thought alone makes you hotter, and so you shake your head when he asks you again, because you can't hear anything but the rushing in your ears. You feel a cool rush against your thighs and for a second you think the door is opening. The thought alone is enough to give you heart attacks, and in the end makes you come harder than you'd ever thought possible.

"Discovery fantasies, huh? I can totally use that." He murmurs as he smiles against your stomach, his breath sending little shivers through you, and you raise your hand to smack him before he presses his lips there, his tongue finding your clit instantly, even though he's never been there before, and you come again, harder and faster than before, stars in your eyes before you can even remember your name.

The chair picks the exact wrong minute to break.

_"OH MY GOD."_ You've never been much of a yeller, but you're falling and you're not over the after spasms, and as you thump to the ground and as the dust literally settles around you, you can't help but laughing.

"Oh my god is fucking right." He murmurs, rubbing the small of his back, his eyes never leaving the half naked bottom of you. You want to cover up, hide from him, but being shy after you let him go down on you as you contorted wildly on your desk chair probably removes every shyness clause from the book. Still though, his eyes are penetrating, and the second wind of your laugh gets caught in your throat. You try to sit up, but suddenly he's there, assaulting you from every corner, his lips attaching themselves to yours. It strikes you, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to get him closer, to press his kiss as deep as possible, that he's still clothed and you're sans shirt, shorts _and_ panties.

"Logan," You murmur against his lips, because he won't move. He's drinking you in, clinging on to you for survival, and doesn't seem to be letting you go anytime soon.

"Veronica. Do you really want to be having a conversation right now?" He moves up slowly, and for a crazy moment you think he's leaving until you feel his erection straining against his jeans, pressing into your stomach. _Oh._

"I was just gonna tell you," You bat your eyelashes with as much energy as you can muster, which is admittedly not much. "That I'm half naked-" With a flick of his fingers your bra is spooled on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You can't help but laughing, and the liquid heat in his eyes only encourages you. "I'm all naked," You can resist running your fingers up the sides of your body, relishing in the fact that his eyes are riveted on you. "And you're still dressed. Why is that?" He's gritting his teeth, eyes closed so he won't look at you, and you get another stab of warmth from that. His lips find yours, but only stay there for a moment as he drags himself away from you, breathing heavily as he leans against the wall.

"We're in your father's office, for one." You do cover yourself up now. You're not upset, not at him at least, but it's beginning to dawn on you what exactly you'd just done, and you can't help the blush that adds heat to your face. _More heat that I don't need._

"You're right-I mean, losing control would be bad. Especially in here. I'm glad you had your head. I don't know what I would've-" He drags you into his arms, dotting kisses on your neck, and you lose yourself within him in an instant. You can't help it. He's magnetic.

"Veronica, where you're concerned, I never have my head."

"What?"

"I can't think when you're in the room. And when you're touching me-" He pauses to guide your hand to his chest, and when he shivers, you're almost sure he isn't faking. "When you're touching me, I can't remember my own name." You smile at that, because when he's touching you, you can't remember your name either. You start to tell him so, but he presses his finger against your lips. "Your chair broke." You nod, unable to follow, because his hands are rubbing your back. By rights, it should be sticky and disgusting-the heat is seriously not helping your cause, but it isn't, and you never want him to stop. "I lost control, V." He smiles earnestly as he dips down to kiss you. It's meant to be an innocent kiss, you can tell, but you can't help slipping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers leaving indents in his back. "We can't do this here." He murmurs against your lips, and you nod, because it's true. It would be stupid to have sex on the floor of the office. Even though you've rescheduled most appointments for next week, the door isn't locked, so anyone could walk in at any time. Your _father_ could walk in, but even armed with that knowledge, you don't stop kissing him. You pull away, barely an inch, just to look into his eyes, and it's in that instant that something is decided in his eyes. You can tell exact moment that is, because they go black with need. He's kissing you for all that he's worth-for all that you're worth even, and you don't notice when he pulls his worn Polo over his head. You don't hear his pants unzipping, even though your fingers are splayed against his hardness. You don't even hear the noise of the condom wrapper, but suddenly he's inside you and your eyes pop open, because even though you were expecting it, you weren't expecting _this_, and you catch sight of it as you glance around.

"Veronica," He's whispering against the skin of your neck, his lips dotting feathery little kisses all over you. You can't respond, you can't think. This is it. "Oh my god, _Veronica_." He collapses on top of you, and even though he's heavy, you like the weight. You like the way it feels, and you try to tell you so, but he's kissing you again, and your eyes close, and suddenly he rolls off you, the condom disposed of in the garbage can.

"God, you have stamina." You mutter teasingly, when you finally regain the power of speech. _It was _never_ like this with Duncan._ He seems to read your thoughts, because he leans down and kisses you again. He sinks into you, and your body comes back to life as his hands settle on your waist.

"I can't believe our first time was on the floor of this office." He mutters as he pulls away finally. Biting his lip as he looks down at you. There's a smile playing at the corner of his lips and you realize that even if he doesn't say it, you know he loves you. He doesn't have to tell you, and when he notices the light in your eyes, he smiles, and you feel your heart lurch.

"Our second time was on the floor of this office too." You mutter as you grab the hand he's offered to help you up, pushing the dust off your shorts as you stand, and he bends, pulling out the clear plastic trash bag from it's container and tying its ends together.

"The last thing your father needs is another excuse not to like me." He murmurs against your hair, close for just a moment until he walks to the other side of the desk, trying to get as far away from you as possible. "Hey, don't look at me like that, Mars. I can't not get hard when I kiss you, and I can't be close to you and not kiss you, so until we get somewhere that's not this office-preferably someplace with air conditioning or a shower-" He pauses to wink suggestively, and you wink right back. You notice that he can't help but smiling. "I can't be close to you." You nod, smiling again as you bend to stack the pieces of your dismantled chair on top of each other, shaking your ass because you know he's looking. Leaning across the desk to hook his fingers in your belt loops, he laughs as you tug against him, winking over your shoulder, as a stray bang falls over your eye. It would be sexy if it weren't so hot and your hair wasn't so heavy.

Hours later, you lounge next to him, naked under the sheets of his bed, your head resting on his chest, when you hear the tinny sound of your cell phone beeping. Ignoring it, you snuggle down further, not wanting to leave his side, or this room ever again. The phone sounds again, and he shrugs.

"Maybe it's important." You doubt it; you grumble, turning your back to him as you rifle through your bag on the floor until your fingers grab hold of the offending cell. You roll your eyes as you realize it's a voice message.

"No one leaves important messages through voice mail." You mutter, irritated at the mystery caller for ruining the perfection of this moment.

"You have one new message from phone number, 962-555-0375." _Home?_ "Hi, Honey. It's me. I sent Logan out to find you a few hours ago when you didn't come home on time." He pauses to clear his throat, and for a moment you revel in being the one worried about, instead of the worrier. There's a certain satisfaction in that. "Anyway, I just wanted to check in." He pauses again, and for a second, you think the message is over. "I've got to go for a few days. I'll be back as soon as I can. I wanted to tell you in person, but my…my _transportation_ is here now, and I don't think I can wait any longer." _It's some sort of clue. Or _warning_…_ "I can't find my stupid cell phone charger, so I'm not bringing it with me, but I'll call you when I get there. I love you, Honey."

The world makes a loud noise as it crashes back down.


End file.
